


Time Capsule

by Oderas



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Detectives, Future Fic, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 16:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15822603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oderas/pseuds/Oderas
Summary: Slight trigger warning if you don't like crime fics or character death (spoiler alert this fic is about solving who murdered kageyama if you're not into thats okay but just be aware this is the plot)





	Time Capsule

**Author's Note:**

> Slight trigger warning if you don't like crime fics or character death (spoiler alert this fic is about solving who murdered kageyama if you're not into thats okay but just be aware this is the plot)

 

**"If reality was a motion picture, this is the moment I'd edit out: the day you disappeared."**

 

 

 

 

**Part I: Unearthing**

 

 

It started with a phone call, as all jarring revelations did. Sudden, unexpected, layered under the familiar screech of the mundane. Akaashi Keiji had begun his morning like any other, quiet and routine. Punctured only by his partner’s loud excitement. He sat by the gurgling coffeemaker in the break room, slumped over in sullen contemplation as his fingers tapped impatiently. Then, with his newly brewed coffee in hand Keiji would sit at his desk, sift through requests to reopen a case. Migrate back and forth from the storage room to his office chair and back again. He would pointedly ignore Bokuto’s attempt to gain his attention ( _“Hey! Hey! Hey! Akaashi”_ ). But this day was different, in the middle of his fourth migration, Keiji was returning to his desk when the landline rang. It was shrill and whining, demanding his attention like the man lounged across from him usually did. Keiji scrambled to answer the phone before Bokuto. He placed the receiver between his shoulder and ear as he reached for a notepad. He shot his partner a triumphant smirk.

 

“Detective Akaashi speaking, how may I help you?”  he answered with a practiced cadence.

“The remains of a suspected victim in a cold case was found this afternoon. I’m going to need the case reopened,” spoke the voice on the other line.

This type of phone call was also familiar to Keiji. He didn’t receive them as frequently but when he did he knew how to act. He pulled out the fountain pen stuck through the rings of the notepad and tapped it on the blank page. “Yes of course. If you can give me the details my partner and I will start on this immediately.” Out of the corner of his eye Keiji noticed Bokuto shift restlessly, the prospect of a case no doubt a source of excitement.

The officer began reciting the dates and serial number of the evidence as Keiji rapidly recorded the notes.

“Name?” he asked, reviewing the serial number.

“Kageyama Tobio.”

 

____________________________________________

 

Karasuno Highschool was a beloved building, its aged visage enriched with the experience of thousands of youths. Its male volleyball team astounded and amazed Japan with its innovation. To headline the decade of success was the first set of teens coached by Ukai Keishin. Each was talented, hardworking, bringing to the court a zeal that was unprecedented. They were wild, ferocious, truly a murder of crows. And amongst them was a genius.

Kageyama Tobio.

 

He had slender hands, a delicate touch that was only present when he dealt with a volleyball. His skill and talent took Karasuno to new heights. By the time he hit third year he was renowned. Stood side by side with an orbiting sun, a tide making moon, a piecing lance; fearsome.

It was the twelfth year of his disappearance. The new year came and went. Kageyama Tobio remained a relic of the past.

 Until that spring.

It was a cold morning, the air icy as the construction crew arrived to begin the gym renovations. They started with the floor, removing the original layer and in the process of doing so uncovered something they never thought to find. One of the workers screamed, staring at the rubble.

“That’s a skeleton,” he said, voice shaky.

There was chaos, people panicking, others shrinking back in fear. Their supervisor stepped inside to investigate the cause of the commotion. He glanced at the human radius protruding from the smashed concrete and said, “Call the police.”

 

____________________________________________

 

Growing up Keiji loved puzzles, he gained fulfilment from carefully slotting together pieces to form one big picture. This developed into unpacking his friend’s personal problems and before he knew it, detective work. He dealt with cold cases because it was a challenge, working a case conducted by an incompetent detective, filling the gaps left by misplaced evidence; making up for the details eroded by time. Keiji was gifted at noticing what others didn’t and he felt that his duty lay in providing justice to those that previously missed their opportunity. If he was being honest a part of him enjoyed giving closure to people. He never dealt with fresh wounds, or individuals he actually knew. The job was less emotionally taxing when both parties involved were not as charged. However, this case was entirely different, it pertained to a world that he himself hailed from, it revolved around people that Keiji actually _knew_ this in its self was a source of conflict.

 

“Are you sure?” Bokuto asked him for the thousandth time, he was trailing behind Keiji who, paper in hand was searching the shelves in the case storage for the right box. He understood why his partner was hesitant to believe the identity of their victim. _I didn’t even know him,_ he reminded himself. But it made no difference because he had played volleyball in his youth, participated in countless practice matches against Kageyama Tobio, was awed with each encounter. Keiji and Bokuto went to separate high schools yet both had faced the setter’s formidable skills. To top it all off Keiji was a setter himself, he fervently admired his underclassmen and the reality of him losing his life prematurely was affecting the detective more than he cared to admit.

“Yes Bokuto-san, they identified him on the spot. His wallet was with him.” Keiji’s eyes scanned the row of boxes that were from October 2013 until his eyes landed on the name _Kageyama_ written in hasty marker. “If you could grab it please?” Keiji asked.

Bokuto obliged, tucking the cardboard under his arm and leading the way back to their desk space. “It’s hard to believe, I remember him from high school.” His voice was small, contemplative and Keiji suddenly realised that Bokuto too was affected by this.

 “I know.” He murmured. They wended their way through the narrow corridors in silence.

 

Bokuto dropped the box onto the desk with a thud, he carefully removed the lid and placed it down. “There’s not much in here,” he said, the traces of melancholy leaving his voice just as fast as it came. Keiji appreciated his professionalism, it was too early in the investigation for a setback.

“There wasn’t much evidence, they hit a dead end almost immediately.”

Bokuto hummed in response, he pulled out a manila folder with loose leaf sheets protruding out of the edges. As he flicked through the reports Keiji reached a hand inside and extracted a crushed milk box in a sealed bag. He turned it over to see the label _Exhibit #1._

“You’re right,” Bokuto said, “There’s nothing, this sucks.” He sighed and threw the folder onto the desk.

“Bokuto-san,” Keiji chastised. “It’s a cold case for a reason. We’ll start with interviews like we usually do.” His partner instantly perked up and before he could respond, Keiji cut him off, “No you can’t drive, remember last time?”

“But,” he protested.

Keiji rolled his eyes, he swiped the keys to their precinct issued SUV then walked off. “Bring the folder with you,” he called over his shoulder.

There was a whine, then begrudging footsteps.

 Keiji smiled.

 

____________________________________________

 

This aspect was Keiji’s least favourite part of the job. Kageyama Rumiko resided in the same house for the past thirty years. It was a homey town house with a lingering traditional Japanese architecture. As they walked through the gate Keiji glimpsed their family name plate, his heart sank. Bokuto rung the door bell, his garish white hair contrasting with the refined mourning of their surroundings. Keiji tugged nervously at his suit jacket while they waited.

 

The door swung open to reveal a tall woman with jet black hair in a sleek bob, piercing blue eyes that were rimmed with red. She looked so much like Kageyama, there was no doubt she was his mother. Her large eyes surveyed the two men before her, she glanced at the badge clipped at Keiji’s belt before speaking. “Is this about Tobio?”

“Yes Kageyama-san, may we come in?” Bokuto asked gently. Keiji was infinitely grateful for his partner’s gift with words.

“Of course,” she said, opening the door wider to let them in. She led them to a modest living room with the bare minimum of furnishings. There were no framed pictures or extra decoration. Keiji wondered when she decided that her son was dead after spying the small shrine with lit incense by the fireplace. It clearly had been in use for more than a few days. Rumiko took a seat on an arm chair and gestured for the officers to do the same on the adjacent couch.

“I was told about his death last night,” She began, “but I felt it in my heart for much longer that he was gone. Tobio doesn’t… _didn’t_ run away from anything.”

Keiji allowed Bokuto to take the reins of the conversation while he did what he was good at: observation.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, “but if I may ask, what do you remember about his disappearance?”

Rumiko paused for a second, she seemed to be fighting off tears. “Not enough to make a difference. I was a single mum, I worked too much to be able to see him.”

“Is there anything? Any little detail is significant.”

Rumiko took in a deep breath; her hands were clasped together so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. “Volleyball was his life. It was all he did, all he really spoke about. The last day I saw him was the nationals quarter finals. I came to watch his match because I had taken the day off. His team had lost. They were all devastated. I knew that whenever he faced a loss he needed to vent and be left alone, so I let him be. The last time I saw my son he was walking off the court with his team.”

There was a heavy silence in which Rumiko struggled to keep her composure. Keiji shared a look with Bokuto and he recognised that pleading glint in his golden eyes. Keiji leaned forward and despite his mental protest he lay his hand on Rumiko’s. “I’m so sorry you had to relive that. My partner and I will do our very best to bring your son justice.” He felt her hands tremble.

She looked up, completely dry eyed, Keiji had to commend her strength. “Thank you.”

The two officers collected themselves and were led out by Rumiko who thanked them again at the door. Once they were out of the drive away, the pair let out of a sigh.

“I hate that part the most,” Bokuto said, running a hand through his spiked hair.

Keiji nodded in agreement. “Let’s go back to the precinct, we should back track the witness accounts.”

His partner stretched out his arms. “Hey, hey, hey! Let’s solve this case, Akaashi.”

 

____________________________________________

 

Keiji and Bokuto were knee deep in witness accounts—for a case with zero evidence there were a lot of reports. It was the fifth hour since they spread the papers out on both their desks and swapped accounts to create a physical timeline. At some point during those hours Bokuto had dragged in a white board and Keiji began listing the significant events on it.

Bokuto was leaned back in his swivel chair, his tie loosened, an apple in his hands. “So, we know that their match ended at 3:30 and we know that he wasn’t reported missing until the next morning at 7 am when the bus was leaving.”

Keiji nodded, “Correct. There’s a lot of time in between that we have to fill.”

Bokuto took a bite of the apple, leaving his teeth sunk into it while he read over a report. “This one accounts for at least seven hours.” He said except it sounded more like _“Shish wun akunts for at leesh shevn urs.”_ And Keiji was mad that he understood even with the garbled speech.

“Whose it from?”

Bokuto swallowed, “His teammates, the third years ones. They said after their team meal and an overview of their gameplay, the third years went out to clear their heads and returned to the hotel at 10 pm.”

“He’s unaccounted for after that,” Keiji muttered, he twisted the maker cap in his hands, “What time did the meeting finish?”

“Around 5:30, why?”

Keiji began twirling the marker in his hand as he pieced together his thoughts. “That means the third years went out for almost five hours.”

Bokuto sat up, understanding dawning on him. “They were teenagers _and_ they lost in the middle of their last tournament.”

“Exactly, they definitely weren’t ‘clearing their heads’”

“When I lost during my final year we went to a friend’s house and got wasted.”

Keiji smiled, “Same, worst hangover of my life.”

“No,” Bokuto said glancing at him with a mixture of disbelief and amusement, “ _the_ Akaashi? I’ve got to hear this.”

Keiji laughed. “Maybe later, right now we’ve got a case to solve.”

 

____________________________________________

 

When Keiji came into work the next morning he didn’t expect to find a person waiting for him in his office. He almost dropped both coffee mugs in surprise. The person in question turned around and apologised for their intrusion. Keiji quickly regained his composure, taking a seat behind his desk.

“What can I do for you?” He asked more out of formality, already recognising the bright orange hair from his time in high school and more recently the sports channel.

Hinata Shouyou looked nervous, he tapped his feet and twisted his fingers. His wide brown eyes frantically darted across Keiji’s face, “You remember me, right?”

Keiji certainly wasn’t expecting that response but nonetheless he answered, “Yes, we went to a lot of training camps together Hinata-san.”

The younger man visibly relaxed. “Okay that’s good, it makes this less awkward. Bokuto called me last night. He asked if I wanted to come down and help with the case.”

“Are you sure you’re up for it?” Keiji wasn’t surprised, it was like the man to do something like that. He should’ve expected it.

Hinata smiled at Keiji, it was wistful and laced with the remnants of grief. “Thanks for the concern but I owe it to Kageyama. Besides I know he’d do the same for me.”

Keiji couldn’t fault his argument nor could he deny any extra help. It just pained him to know that had Kageyama not been murdered twelve years ago Hinata might’ve shown up at his office with his sullen friend in tow as one of Bokuto’s guests.

Not a potential witness.

 

 Hinata raised a hand to stifle a yawn and it dawned on Keiji that the man had been travelling since before sunrise. “Would you like some coffee?” he offered.

Hinata seemed to hesitate but finally gave in. “Please, I played two matches last night then hopped on a train right after. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Thirty does that to you.”

“I’m _twenty-nine,_ it’s still May.”

Keiji laughed, “I made this one for Bokuto-san, but you can have it. Is black okay?”

Hinata reached forward and grabbed the mug. “Yeah, more than okay.”

“You know,” Keiji began playing with the rim of his own mug, “enjoying black coffee is also a sign of age.”

“Get out,” he retorted, then said more to himself, “I forgot you had such a dry sense of humour.”

Keiji’s lips twitched in amusement. He was glad that the grief of losing his best friend had not dulled Hinata’s radiant personality.

 

Bokuto entered the room with his characteristic loudness, “Shrimp, good to see you!”

Hinata smiled despite the force of Bokuto’s pat on his back. “You too, thanks for letting me be involved.”

Bokuto ambled towards his desk, he kicked his chair so that it spun towards him. “How was the train?” he asked falling back into the seat.

Hinata smiled his typical grin, wide, a flash of white teeth that was comforting yet disconcerting given the context. “Tiring, but at least I’ve got a break for the next few weeks.”

Bokuto nodded, “Must be nice, I’ve forgotten what a vacation is,” he flashed Hinata a smile then reached forward absentmindedly for the spot where Keiji placed his coffee every morning. When his hand swiped the empty space, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Keiji pointed to the mug Hinata was raising to his lips and said to Bokuto, “First come, first serve.”

His partner pouted but otherwise didn’t protest. Instead he turned his owlish gaze to Hinata. “Whenever you’re ready we can go through the events of that night.”

Keij felt the dip in the light-hearted atmosphere almost instantaneously and he was regretful to see the slight tremble of Hinata’s hands as he lowered his mug.

“Where should I start?”

 

Keiji surveyed Bokuto who was seated with a casual yet attentive posture. His amber eyes shone two shades brighter, a glint that only appeared when he was thinking critically. “How about what happened from when you and the other third years went to clear your minds?”

Hinata winced, feeling the implied accusation. “My memory gets fuzzy towards the end for er obvious reasons.”

Keiji felt bad for the red-head’s shame, they’d all been reckless and careless in their youth. Riding the high of triumph and the low of defeat. There was nothing wrong with finding solace in intoxication and equally emotional companions. It was just unfortunate that his drunken coping was tangled with the loss of his best friend.

“I don’t drink anymore, by the way.” He added softly, “After the loss, us third years were devastated. It was our last game together. Tsukishima had finally started loving volleyball, Kageyama had found a balance between his demands and the teams capabilities; Yamaguchi had remained solid and reassuring throughout our final year, a captain we were all grateful to have. Then it was gone in a blink of an eye. Our complicated and dysfunctional relationship was no more.” Hinata’s gaze was distant, reliving a time that was long gone.

 

Keiji could hear the pain in his voice and ached with him. Letting go of a volleyball team was like detaching a limb. It was painful and there was yearning for the missing parts. Keiji was lucky that he could still meet his former teammates for drinks every few months and he made a mental note to schedule another one when the case was over.

 

Hinata continued with his story, “So we wanted to go out with a bang. Tsukishima’s brother—Akiteru bought us a bunch of beers and left his stocked fridge and apartment to us...”

 

_“This place is awesome!” Hinata cried bounding through Akiteru’s narrow hallway. He hurriedly shoved off his shoes. The quick motion triggered Kageyama’s competitive streak. He switched from quietly untying his shoelaces to tugging at the strings with a violent desperation._

_“Don’t be so casual in someone else’s home, dumbass!” Despite his chastising Kageyama stuck an arm out to block Hinata’s passage while he threw off his shoes with his other hand._

_“Hey, no fair,” Hinata whined as both boys pushed and shoved in their race to the fridge. He briefly heard Tsukishima say, “If both you morons break anything, you’re paying out of pocket.” This was followed by Yamaguchi’s characteristic snigger. Hinata tuned them out in favour of reaching the fridge door handle. He touched it first but Kageyama’s longer wingspan allowed him to gain a full grip._

_“I win,” Kageyama said, “that makes it 458 wins and 457 losses,” he had one of his triumphant smirks plastered on his face, it was sharp and smug and Hinata wanted to punch his teeth in because of it._

_“Shut up.”_

_“If you two idiots are done, I want a beer.” Tsukishima’s bored voice interjected._

_“We played three sets today, how the hell aren’t your legs jelly?” Yamaguchi asked, he directed this question mostly at Hinata who had built his career on running and leaping and occasionally flying. All of which he had exhausted himself on in their recent match._

_“They are,” Hinata responded cheekily, “I can’t feel them, are they still there?”_

_Yamaguchi laughed and shoved him playfully, “crows don’t have legs.” He shot both Hinata and Kageyama a look then started counting to five with his fingers. He’d lifted his pinkie and mouthed_ five _to the two boys when Tsukishima spoke up. He’d already chugged half his beer but was obviously sober. “Actually, they do, crows have pentadactyl limbs just like us humans.”_

_Yamaguchi smirked in satisfaction, “I’m telling you he’s just as predictable as you two.”_

_“Hey!” Hinata and Kageyama cried in unison, at the same time Tsukishima said, “Shut up Yamaguchi.”_

_“Sorry, Tsukki,” he said. He sniggered then helped himself to a beer from the fridge._

_\----------_

_Hinata didn’t know how long they’d been drinking but he definitely knew that it was night by now. He crumpled another beer he’d just downed and leaned his head on the couch cushions. He had finally begun feeling the effects of the drinks, but his alcoholic stupor was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Hinata attempted to answer the door but Yamaguchi beat him to it. There was boisterous laughter coming from the hall._

_“Yamaguchi!” Tanaka’s familiar voice cried._

_Their quiet night of drinking had suddenly gotten louder when the dynamic duo of Tanaka and Nishinoya burst into the living room._

_“Oi what’s this sorry sight?” Tanaka leered, he grabbed an intoxicated Hinata into a headlock and rubbed his bright orange hair._

_“Shouyou!” Nishinoya cheered, he patted the red head’s hair and bounded past him in favour of pouncing on Kageyama. “What a scary face,” he said patting his underclassmen’s shoulders_

_Kageyama struggled out of the libero’s grip but when it became apparent that he wouldn’t budge, Kageyama gave up. “Just my face,” he said instead._

_Kageyama and Nishinoya had developed a close relationship, drawn together by their fluency in genius. Their conversations were spoken in the language of prodigies. Sound affects and poorly strung together sentences that only made sense to them._

_“Not drinking because you want to go whoosh later?” Nishinoya asked_

_Kageyama nodded stiffly and that seemed to appease Noya’s curiosity, he lowered his hands from Kageyama’s shoulders and moved over to join the rest of the upperclassman. Suga, Daichi and Asahi had arrived, carrying a six pack between the each of them._

_“We’re doing this responsibly. Got it, Tanaka and Noya,” Daichi said, every bit the poised captain Hinata had admired in his first year of high-school. He dropped the drinks on the coffee table and the rest of the boys gathered around, lounging on the mismatched furniture that Akiteru’s college budget could barely afford._

_“I’ve missed you guys,” Suga gushed, his radiant smile somehow lifting the sense of defeat from Hinata’s chest._

_Suga lifted a beer can in toast, “To our Kouhai!”_

_The rest of the upperclassman repeated him and brought their drinks to their lips._

_Hinata was abuzz with pleasant emotions, his tiny frame was drowned in alcohol and his motor senses suffered as result. He could register Tanaka and Noya loudly having a drinking contest with Suga who surprisingly or rather unsurprisingly was holding his own against the two boys. Hinata went over to join them, he briefly noticed Yamaguchi and Kageyama slipping outside but he was quickly distracted by Noya passing out with a beer can in hands._

_“Noya’s down, you’re a demon Suga-san!” Tanaka roared prodding his passed-out friend with his toes._

_Suga beamed and said something that escaped Hinata because suddenly the floor was tilting, and he needed to brace himself._

_Everything went black._

_\---_

“So blatant underage drinking aside, is that all you can remember?” Keiji asked.

Hinata’s shoulders slumped further in shame, he swallowed then said, “Yes.”

Keiji nodded then leaned back in his seat allowing for Bokuto to take the lead on the questioning.

Bokuto drummed his fingers on the table, his state of constant motion even more evident when he was sitting. “Two things stood out to me,” he began, eying Hinata thoughtfully, “firstly, Kageyama wasn’t drinking and secondly he left the apartment with Yamaguchi-san, can you elaborate?” 

Hinata twisted his fingers together, “like I said I was drunk, plus Kageyama not drinking wasn’t really surprising he took his health seriously.”

“Was he with the rest of your group when you all returned to the hotel later that night?”

Hinata blanched at the implication, “I uh… was passed out. But I assume he was because we didn’t report him missing till the next day.”

Bokuto held Hinata’s gaze, his amber eyes unyielding and searching. After what felt like an eternity to the clearly uncomfortable Hinata he smiled and broke the tension. “Well that’s all I needed for today, thank you for coming by. Have you got a place to stay?”

Hinata’s tense shoulders relaxed and a ghost of a smile appeared on lips, it was weak and reminiscent of his youthful vigour. “Yes, I’m staying with a friend,” he glanced at his watch, “I’m actually supposed to be meeting him now.” He folded his coat over his arm and stood, “thank you for the coffee Akaashi-san.”

Keiji watched the man leave with mixed emotions. He wanted to sympathise with him and for the most part he did, but something at the back of his mind wouldn’t allow him to. Scepticism was a gift in his line of work and Keij wore it just as proudly as the badge poised on his hip. He turned to Bokuto and voiced his concern.

 “He’s lying.”

Bokuto glanced up from his notepad. “I got that impression too.”

“He knows that Kageyama wasn’t with them when they returned to the hotel,” Keiji continued, remembering Hinata’s apprehensive response to Bokuto’s questions, “I don’t think he was involved in the murder, but I _know_ he’s hiding vital information.”

Bokuto sighed and pressed his palms to the desk’s surface, “You’re always right about these things Akaashi but right now I wish you weren’t.”

Keiji shrugged, “We need to pay Yamaguchi-san a visit, as well as verify the story from everyone else involved that night.”

“That’s a lot of work even for us, is anyone else assigned to this case?”

“Two other pairs,” Keiji recited off the email open on his desktop, “Hanamaki and Matsukawa. Kuroo and Kozume.”

Bokuto perked at up at the news, “Kuroo?! I haven’t worked with him since the academy.”

“I know Bokuto-san. Let’s focus on dividing the work among us,” Keiji closed the email. “I’ll have Hanamaki-san and Matsukawa verify all the testimonies. Since Kozume is on sick leave today you and Kuroo can partner up to interview Yamaguchi-san while I check on the remains.”

Bokuto was already out of his chair and whooping in delight at the prospect of rekindling his partnership with Kuroo before Keiji even got to finish his sentence. He rolled his eyes and began typing an email to their supervisor.

 

____________________________________________

 

Keiji hardly ever dealt with remains in person, it was always through decade old grainy photographs, with a glossy surface so faded he struggled finding a difference between the background and corpse. In the rare moments there _were_ remains the closest he got was a glimpse of discoloured shins under a blanket. Currently however, Keiji was in a peculiar situation. Tendou Satori, world renown forensic anthropologist had returned to Japan a week ago and was immediately employed by the Cold Case unit to remedy the backlog of unsolved cases due to malpractice by previous coroners. Keiji had heard rumours of this individual’s eccentric personality and now standing in the doorway of the lab, watching Tendou caress the finger bones of the remains, he understood how such rumours came about.

 

Keiji rapped his knuckles on the open door to get the man’s attention. The man perked up at the sound and turned to face him. “Phalanges,” he said by way of greeting.

“Carpals too,” Keiji responded, taking a step inside the lab (he had minored in anatomy).

Tendou smiled approvingly at him. It was wide and manic. “Yes, I agree. He must’ve been incredibly talented.”

Keiji took that statement as further approval to approach the remains, so he did. “He _was_ incredibly talented.”

Tendou hummed, and in that brief moment of silence where he gingerly traced his gloved fingertip over the right knuckles, Keiji got to examine the man closer. He was lanky, his white lab coat hung loosely around his slim frame. He had long fingers with pronounced joints, they looked awkward and clumsy but when handling the bones like he was now they were delicate and skilled. What stood out to Keiji the most was Tendou’s hair, the bright red colour was almost blinding, and its style was reminiscent of Bokuto’s garish spikes. But where his partner’s hair was carefully gelled each morning, Tendou’s appeared to be a by-product of his frantic energy.

 

The quiet moment ended when Tendou clapped his hands together and focused his attention on Keiji. “So, what can I do for you?” his chipper tone starkly contrasted with the grim reminder of mortality rested in front of them.

“I’ve come to gather any information you’ve extracted from the remains,” Keiji held out a hand, “I’m Akaashi Keiji, one of the senior detectives on this case.”

Tendou removed one of his gloves and shook his hand. “Tendou Satori, world renown forensic anthropologist but I think you knew that already.”

Keiji raised an eyebrow, he was adept at reading people and he was almost certain that Tendou wasn’t boasting. He stated it like a fact, completely blasé and quick to move on to something more intriguing. “Any information you have will be helpful to the investigation.” Keji said.

Tendou hummed once again. He gestured for Keiji to step closer to the remains. The bones were all neatly laid out on a flat surface that was illuminating to allow for details to stand out. It was a jigsaw puzzle, carefully arranged to look human again. The thought made Keiji shudder.

“You see the problem I have with you suits and well the majority of scientists is this need to adhere to facts. Because yes, I agree factual evidence is significant, but we can never get there without creating a hypothesis which as you know is simply an educated guess-”

“I’m familiar with the process,” Keiji cut in.

Tendou was completely unphased by the interruption and smiled wider at Keiji’s annoyance. “Right! So, to put it succinctly I do have _evidence_ you can use,” the word was dripping in disdain, “but I know my guesses are more valuable.”

Keiji was never one to deny a person’s gut instincts, especially someone with credentials like Tendou. He was however aware that he could not base an entire investigation, especially one as old as this case on circumstantial evidence alone. “I’ll consider it.” He settled for.

Tendou beamed, “Fantastic! This way then, lets get the boring stuff out of the way.” He tapped a finger on the clipboard rested on a separate table. “I’ve logged blunt force trauma to the cranium and zygomatic. This one,” he said pointing to the arch of the cheek bones, “was done premortem, I’d say approximately ten hours before time of death. Both weapons are unknown I’m still running matches.”

Keiji had to admit that he was impressed by the man’s precision. “About the injury to the zygomatic does that mean he was punched in the face on the day he died?”

Tendou did not look up from his clipboard, his brain completely in work mode. “Yes, its safe to assume so.”

Keiji catalogued that information for his later interrogations. “Do you have cause of death?”

“No. Despite the obvious external trauma to his cranium and zygomatic none of those injuries were fatal. As of now there is no COD.” He grabbed the microscope and dragged it towards the arms, “Now this is important. As a volleyball athlete he of course sustained repeated damage to his radii, however not to this extent. Note the perimortem micro fracturing across both arms. This indicates force being exerted on them, from the angle of these injuries its safe to assume that he fell down and braced his fall with both arms close to his death.”

“So, someone punched him in the face _and_ he fell violently,” Keiji reiterated in disbelief.

“This young man clearly had many enemies.”

“That narrows down the list,” Keiji sighed. “Anything else?”

“I’ve had my lab techs swab the bones and remaining clothing for particulates, I’ll have the results by the end of the week.” Tendou abandoned the clipboard and glided towards the displayed bones, “now to the fun bit.”

Keiji regarded the bones laid out in front of him again, they looked like every other skeleton that he’d seen, how Tendou could gleam any information from it escaped him. Tendou picked up the skull and held his hand under the jaw so that it would not fall.

“This is my favourite part,” he sung, “a person’s skeleton tells more a life story than you’re aware. I can tell how you walked, what your dominant hand was, any injuries you sustained, signs of abuse, signs of disease. And what’s truly interesting about this set of remains is the teeth.” Tendou held it out so Keiji could see. “Note the damage to his bottom teeth, it indicates that he ground his teeth.”

Keiji looked at the worn-down teeth and blinked in confusion, “Why is this relevant?”

Tendou lowered the skull back onto its place, “Because it’s a sign of character,” he responded cryptically.

Keiji however was quick to understand what he was insinuating, and realisation dawned on him, “People that grind their teeth are prone to anxious or angry dispositions,” he recited from memory.

“Definitely,” Tendou hummed, “which one he was allows us to understand how his death occurred and _who_ was responsible.”

Keiji paused to think for a moment, he had taken profiling classes during his first few years on the job and he had completely forgotten the significance of such a practice. Sometimes taking a gamble was also required in his line of work. “Which do you think it is?” he asked.

“What an honour,” Tendou breathed, he grabbed the sides of his lab coat and curtsied. It was a surprisingly elegant movement and if Keiji wasn’t staring at the mocking tilt of the man’s heavy-lidded eyes he would’ve believed it. “Anxious of course,” Tendou said.

Keiji had been spending too much time around Bokuto because Tendou’s strange behaviour and shifting demeanour didn’t even make him bat an eyelash. “Not a revenge crime then,” he said.

Tendou’s eyes widened briefly and his thin eyebrows rose. “Ah you’re keeping up. Yes, you can most likely rule out all your main suspects, since the deceased didn’t seem the type to aggravate hate on this scale.”

Keiji’s gut was telling him the same thing however as appealing as that line of thought was some facts didn’t add up. “How would you explain the blunt force trauma then?”

Tendou perked up. “I’m glad you asked! I don’t have conclusive evidence yet but the trauma on his zygomatic was one-sided,” he caressed the knuckles again, “see, no damage to either knuckles. Which means he didn’t throw a punch.”

“Have you considered being a detective?” Keiji asked suddenly. People like Tendou were rare in his unit.

Tendou’s manic smile returned, it was even more frenzied the second time. “Oh no no,” he sang, “the dead and I get along. The bones are never wrong, we’re both monsters and in the dark is where we belong.”

Keji for a brief second wondered if the other police branches employed individuals as strange as the ones in the Cold Case Unit. “I’ll take that as no,” he said, “thank you for all your help Tendou-san, I’ll drop by again when you’ve gathered more evidence.”

 

Tendou was already back to examining the remains, he didn’t spare Keiji a glance. “Cuboid,” he said as a form of dismissal.

Keiji shrugged. He turned to leave, he had to check up on Bokuto and make sure neither him nor Kuroo had caused any destruction while he was gone.

 

____________________________________________

 

Koutarou was slumped in the breakroom, hunched over the gurgling coffeemaker as he fought to stay awake. Missing his usual cup of coffee that morning had completely ruined his routine, he stared intently at the machine as if his gaze would will it into completion.

“Oho?” a familiar voiced questioned, “you’re staying still what a surprise.”

Koutarou spun around in a speed that impressed him given his currently dulled motor skills. Kuroo Testuroo was leaning on the door with his signature smirk, it possessed the smugness of a tick and the sharpness of a knife. Many people had cut themselves on it in their attempt to navigate a conversation with the lanky man, Koutarou included and the edges of his ego still smarted at the wounds.

“Kuroo!” Koutarou called, his previous sluggishness forgotten, “how’s it going bro?”

“Not so bad, where’s your other half?” Kuroo stepped inside the breakroom and began opening the cupboards in search of mugs.

“I could say the same to you,” Koutarou replied, returning to his staring match with the coffeemaker, it was currently winning but that could also be due to its lack of ownership over the proper equipment to engage in such a contest in the first place.

Kuroo snorted, “Touché,” he opened the fridge and pulled out a jug of milk that was clearly labelled _property of H_ , he nonchalantly splashed some into a mug. “So, I hear our legendary duo is making a comeback,” he said conversationally.

Koutarou wrinkled his nose at the display, _who had their coffee with milk?!_ “I’ve heard, speaking of I didn’t know you were part of this unit.”

Kuroo grabbed the pitcher of coffee before Koutarou could reach for it and poured it into his own mug, “I wasn’t until last week. Our bosses were meaning to transfer Kenma and I at some point and what’s a better opportunity than a missing person’s case turned cold.”

Koutarou scowled as his jittery hands waited for the pitcher. “Well what an honour that you get to work with me for your first case.”

Kuroo snorted again, “Dream on bro.”

Koutarou finally got to pour his coffee and after taking a big gulp he immediately felt energised. “Dream big, bro,” he replied.

“Dream bigger,” Kuroo said, unable to resist a challenge.

Koutarou slammed his mug down and ignored the liquid that splashed out, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “Dream biggest!”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Kuroo laughed.

Koutarou joined him in his laughter, “It does too,” he said suddenly dissolving into a petulant teen in the presence of his old friend.

“So, when are we leaving?” Kuroo asked in between laughter.

“Soon as you get it together,” Koutarou breathed through his strangled amusement.

“I _am_ together,” Kuroo said, swallowing his lingering chuckles.

“Race you to the car,” Koutarou said, capitalising on his partner’s absence.

“You’re on,” Kuroo replied.

____________________________________________

 

“Hands off the radio,” Koutarou said swiping Kuroo’s fingers away from the dial. Kuroo shot him a glare and fell back into his seat.

“Your music sucks.”

“You suck.” Koutarou said readjusting his grip on the steering wheel, he enjoyed the feeling of the faux leather against his skin. Akaashi had banned him from driving after he had fallen asleep at the wheel one night and almost killed them both. Now as his fingers danced across the wheel to a common beat he savoured this rare opportunity to be in the driver’s seat. He hummed along to the bright tune coming from the radio, while he navigated through the familiar streets of suburban Tokyo. After a while Kuroo had given up his previous offense, unable to help himself and began singing along with Koutarou. From the outside they looked insane, two grown men in suits banging their heads and belting out lyrics from famous pop divas.

 

When they came to a stop in front of the elementary school Yamaguchi worked out, both men were out of breath. Koutarou lowered the hand break and turned to Kuroo with a smile, he received one back. “Still have your voice?” Kuroo teased.

Koutarou rolled his eyes and thrust the water bottle he was gulping from towards his temporary partner. “Always, I’m an ace vocalist. Drink up can’t have Yamaguchi thinking you’re going through puberty.”

Kuroo let out a bark of stunned laughter, “When did you get so good at insults? I thought that was my thing.” He still gladly drank the water.

“Akaashi,” Koutarou replied matter-of-factly. He pulled the keys out of the ignition and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Is it okay if I take the lead on the questioning? I’ve got some specific information to extract.”

Kuroo shrugged, “Yeah, go for it. Its your case anyway.”

Koutarou nodded and got out of the car. He didn’t know why he was nervous, there was no reason to be and the nature of the questioning was informal and brief. He had gotten used to the familiar presence of Akaashi, the way his silence was grounding and reassuring. He could ask whatever questions he wanted because knew if he stepped out of line that his partner would steer the conversation into the right direction. He glanced back at Kuroo who was lingering a few steps behind him. Koutarou’s mind flashed briefly to the academy, Kuroo in action was a force to be reckoned with. Despite his calm exterior, he was clever and quick-witted, always able to navigate conversation skilfully. This complemented Koutarou’s intuitive and straightforward approach. Together they had functioned like a well-oiled machine and the memory of their synergy was enough to settle his nerves.

“You know I haven’t done many interviews regarding homicides,” Kuroo said falling into step with Koutarou, “Its less stressful in a way.”

Koutarou understood what he meant, he too had worked in missing persons before his early transfer and each case in that department was a gut-wrenching race against time. “I get what you mean. Doesn’t change anything though, both departments are equally sad.”

Kuroo’s sigh was heavy and jaded, it spoke of the endless heartbreak he had faced in his decade long career and Koutarou empathised so much that it hurt. Doing his job sometimes took more out of him than he cared to admit.

Kuroo patted his back, “Look alive, don’t want to scare the kids.”

Koutarou closed his eyes took a deep breath to reset his mind state. When he opened his eyes, he was ready to work. “Let’s go.”

 

____________________________________________

 

Koutarou and Kuroo had chosen to wait until all the children in Yamaguchi’s class had gone home. It took twenty minutes of the two hovering out of sight and watching parent after parent walk in empty handed and leave with a chattering child hanging off their arms. Yamaguchi was painting on a canvas, wearing an oversized art smock and with his dark brown hair pulled back into a pony tail at the base of his neck. The remaining children were watching his live demonstration with interest as the young man’s lilting voice carefully explained the process. It was a miracle that he even got the children to sit still for that long and from a distance Koutarou could tell that he was a good person.

“ _This_ guy is a potential suspect?” Kuroo asked incredulously after fifteen minutes of watching Yamaguchi interact with the toddlers, “he’s a literal Bob Ross.”

“Yes, although my suspicion is dropping. He’s an angel.”

“Maybe it’s a trick,” Kuroo said, “It been twelve years, he probably learnt how to act.”

Koutarou shrugged in response.

 

Once the last child had been collected, a small girl wearing a flower crown. Koutarou and Kuroo moved to greet their suspect.

“Excuse me, are you Yamaguchi Tadashi-san?” Koutarou asked.

Yamaguchi who had been in the process of cleaning up the paint turned around. “I am, how can I help you?”

Koutarou held up his badge, “I’m detective Bokuto Koutarou,” he gestured his thumb behind him, “and this is detective Kuroo Tetsurou, could we ask you a few questions.”

Yamaguchi’s face paled and his easy-going smile slid off his face, “Is this about Kageyama?”

“Yes, it’s come to our attention that you were with him on the day he died.”

Yamaguchi glanced behind him then said to both men, “sorry could we do this outside. It’s just that I work here, and I don’t want anyone to overhear.”

“Of course.” Koutarou replied.

Yamaguchi sighed in relief and led them through a bright yellow door to a playground. He sat down on one of the benches and gestured for the two men to do the same.

Once they were all settled Yamaguchi answered the previous question. “I was with him but so was the rest of our team.”

Koutarou shot Kuroo a look that said _pay attention to what he says next_ , “Yes but our sources indicate that when the rest of the third years and alumni were partying you and Kageyama slipped outside together. Is that correct?”

Yamaguchi’s complexion paled even more, to the point that Koutarou began thinking he imagined the man’s tanned skin earlier. “It is,” he said, “and I know how suspicious this sounds especially since I didn’t bring it up in those interviews I had years ago but I can explain.”

Koutarou was actually refreshed at the prospect of not having to poke and prod for information. “Please explain then.”

Yamaguchi took a deep breath and began his explanation. “Kageyama had approached me…”

 

_At some point after the senpai had arrived Tanaka began blaring his loud electronic music over the stereo. Nishinoya had passed out after losing a drinking contest to Suga and now the rest of the team was either spectating or lining up to compete against him. Yamaguchi knew he was a light weight, his few endeavours into alcohol had ended poorly for him. So, he was completely satisfied with nursing his one beer and watching his inebriated friends in amusement. Tsukishima especially was hilarious, he was a clingy drunk and each sip from the cup in his hands was like a truth serum. After four drinks he ended up snuggled in Yamaguchi’s lap, slurring, “You know whenever I tell you to shut up its cos’ im embarrassed.”_

_Yamaguchi laughed, enjoying his honesty. Drunk Tsukishima was reminiscent of his child self, straightforward and utterly adorable. “I know,” he said._

_“Sorry Yamaguchi.”_

_“Is this a role reversal?” he asked._

_“Yes.”_

_Yamaguchi was going to get another answer of him when Kageyama interrupted. He appeared completely sober and when he said, “Can I talk to you outside?” he looked like he was going to cry. Yamaguchi was immediately concerned. “Of course,” he replied. He gently pushed Tsukishima’s head off his lap, “I’ll be back” he said to him before following Kageyama out of the door. The night air was especially cold, and Yamaguchi was glad that he’d kept on his track suit jacket. Akiteru’s apartment was located by the stairwell so he took a seat on one of the steps and patted the spot next to him. “So, what’s up?” he asked once Kageyama sat down._

_Kageyama was quiet for a moment and the stretched-out silence made Yamaguchi’s heartrate increase, it had been a while since his anxiety had flared up like this but something about Kageyama’s posture was scaring him._

_“I met him today,” he said after a while._

_Yamaguchi turned to face him, he felt like he knew the answer, but he was hoping against it being true. “Who?” he asked._

_“My father,” Kageyama said bitterness creeping into his tone._

_Yamaguchi stared at the steps, they crept downwards into a dark abyss. The fluorescent lights above them were weak, flickering in and out of life and he wished they’d stay still so that he could get a proper glimpse of Kageyama’s face. “Did he do anything?” he asked gently._

_Kageyama was silent._

_“Does Hinata know?” he asked instead._

_At this question Kageyama glanced at him._

_The lights stopped flickering._

_And Yamaguchi could see his eyes were welling with tears. He placed his hand on top of his, “Its okay, you can tell me.”_

_“He doesn’t,” Kageyama said and he could hear the slight tremble in his voice. Yamaguchi’s heart ached for him. Since the end of their second year when Kageyama was appointed captain and he vice-captain, the two had developed a strange friendship. One where Kageyama bolstered Yamaguhi’s confidence and didn’t coddle him because of his anxiety. In turn Kageyama shared with Yamaguchi the things he was too afraid to tell Hinata. It helped that  he was more perceptive than Hinata so Kageyama never actually had to tell him things, he just figured them out and did his best to help._

_Under the now stable lights he could see the beginnings of a purple bruise forming on Kageyama’s cheekbone and suddenly the events of the day pieced together in his mind. His lateness to practice that morning, his stiff movements during warmups, the loss of his usual impeccable focus during their first match; his panic when he learnt that his mother was in the stands. And then one more fact had hit him, one that chilled his bones._

_Kageyama’s avoidance of alcohol._

_From their brief conversations Yamaguchi had assumed that Kageyama’s father wasn’t in his life and that his perception of him was terrible. Yamaguchi had never thought to think why. He suddenly felt like an idiot for not realising sooner._

_“Did he hurt you?” Yamaguchi asked. He deliberately phrased the question open ended._

_Kageyama nodded, his gaze not lifting from the floor._

_Sensing that Kageyama was not going to divulge information unless prompted Yamaguchi began his gentle questioning. “How did he know where you were?”_

_“Ever since we won nationals last year our faces have been everywhere.”_

_Yamaguchi inched closer to Kageyama, hoping that the proximity would bring him comfort, “What did he want?”_

_He buried his face in his hands, his reply turning into a frustrated rant, “I don’t know, money? A ticket back into my life? Credit for my college scholarship? An invitation to my first match in the U.S?”_

_Yamaguchi had to pause for a second, taken aback by the information Kageyama was revealing. He had been aware that in the past six months his vice-captain was receiving offers for his future. The two had many long conversations when they stayed behind to lock up the gym. Kageyama had brought up his scholarship offers, the chance to join the Japanese national team yet a prospect as promising as playing for the U.S had been strangely absent from their discussions. Yamaguchi was painfully curious, but he had to tread carefully, this wasn’t about Kageyama’s future, it was about his terrible father and the threat he posed to his family._

_“How did your father even know you got an offer to play for the U.S? You didn’t tell anyone right?”_

_Kageyama sighed, hesitating to answer “I actually did. I’m still a minor so when I was signing the deal I needed consent from both my parents.”_

_“That piece of garbage is still you guardian?!” Yamaguchi exclaimed, letting his temper get the better of him._

_For the first time during their conversation Kageyama’s startled gaze met Yamaguchi’s. “You’re not mad I didn’t tell you about the offer?”_

_“Are you kidding me?” Yamaguchi said but Kageyama’s silence only confirmed his previous statement. In that moment Yamaguchi was too worked up to even remember to even adhere to his previous gentle prodding, tact be damned. He grabbed both the boy’s shoulders and shook him. “I think your priorities are mixed up here. You don’t owe me anything. As your friend it would be nice to be informed of you making major life decisions, I’m pretty sure even Tsukki would want to know but you are not entitled to share everything with us, you hear me?” Kageyama nodded despite his dazed state. “You. Don’t. Owe. Us. Anything. Your father is garbage he deserves both a jump floater and Oikawa serve to the face. And tomorrow when we get back to Sendai you’re going to tell your mum what happened then we’re going to the police because there’s no way he should be allowed anywhere you or her. Got it?” Kageyama nodded again and Yamaguchi satisfied that his message conveyed lowered his hands and attempted to regain his composure._

_There was a beat of silence filled with Yamaguchi’s ragged breathes and Kageyama’s slow blinks. Finally, he opened his mouth. “Sometimes I forget why you’re the captain,” he began, “then you pull something like this and I remember again. You’re like the best bits of Sawamura and Sugawara senpai combined.” He looked Yamaguchi in the eyes when he said this, and his gaze was filled with such sincerity that the freckled boy had to look away._

_“What’s this all of a sudden?” Yamaguchi joked, he was not used to receiving praise, especially from someone as straightforward as Kageyama. His stoic face appeared so mature in the dim light and Yamaguchi found it hard to believe that this was the same person racing Hinata to the fridge hours earlier._

_He shrugged, “I feel like you’ve always doubted your position as captain, you think you’re the least suited out of us for the role.” Yamaguchi felt the accusation sting with the pang of truth, “but we all picked you for a reason. You could be having fun inside with everyone else but you’re out here in the cold listening to my messed-up family history. That’s why we picked you. You’re kind and considerate but you’re also ready to knock some sense into us and propose actual solutions.”_

_Yamaguchi had to bury his face in his knees to hide his blush. “Flattery is not going to stop me from getting your mother involved.”_

_Kageyama laughed, his face splitting into one of his knife-like smiles. “Didn’t think so.”_

_Yamaguchi missed the look of unabashed amusement on the boy’s face. He wished it would stay the whole night, he deserved it. “Come on, lets go back inside. If we’re lucky maybe, we’ll still catch Suga-senpai’s drinking contest with Daichi-senpai.” He held out a hand to Kageyama and hoisted him up. “Make sure to take photos. Being the sober friend has its perks.”_

_“Can we start with Tsukishima?” Kageyama asked, dusting dirt of his track suit bottoms._

_Yamaguchi grinned. “Of course,” he opened the door and gestured for Kageyama to enter, “after you.”_

_\----_

“This still doesn’t explain why you withheld this information,” Koutarou said.

Yamaguchi sighed. “Kageyama and I were both being considered to play overseas. Just like he didn’t tell anyone I didn’t either. There was only one spot available which Kageyama got. It would immediately make me a suspect if I told the police that the same day he revealed to me that he’d earned the spot he disappeared.”

Koutatou shared a look with Kuroo, they were both onto the same thing. “What about Kageyama’s father?” he pressed.

Yamaguchi furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “What about him? I’ve never met him.”

“Why didn’t you report his involvement to the police. It was valuable information.”

The confused expression still didn’t leave his face. “I did, I told the detective everything I knew about him.”

Koutarou tried to school his expression into one of cool interest. He did not want to show Yamaguchi how startled he was by his revelation. “Do you remember that detective’s name?”

The freckled faced man thought for a moment, “Suzuhara-san I think.”

Koutarou wrote the name down on his notepad and tucked it back into the pocket of his suit jacket. “Thank you for your cooperation, if you think of any more information please give us a call,” Koutarou said handing over his business card.

Yamaguchi gingerly held the card. “Thank you.”

 

With a polite bow both Kuroo and Koutarou leave the kindergarten grounds. Koutaou was silent, ruminating in the information he received. Each claim Yamaguchi made was a jagged puzzle piece that Koutatou was struggling to fit into the established narrative of that night. When they approached the car, he tossed his keys to Kuroo, his mind too preoccupied to focus on driving.

Hands on the stirring wheel, key in the ignition, Kuroo was the first to break the silence. “I only read over the case report this morning but I’m pretty sure I looked over everything. Am I missing something?”

Koutarou shook his head, “You’re not and that’s the problem.” He looked at the text Akaashi sent him again, “what Yamaguchi said fits into the description of injuries provided by Tendou. It also explains Kageyma Rumiko’s lack of mentioning a husband. Something is not making sense here.” He sighed and leaned back in the seat.

Kuroo hummed in agreement. “So where to now?” he asked instead.

“Back to the precinct, we have to figure out who the hell this Suzuhara is.”

 

____________________________________________

 

When Koutarou and Kuroo walked into the office Akaashi was already sifting piles of case files.

“You got my text, right?” Koutaro asked taking a seat at his desk.

Without looking up from his task at hand, Akaashi nodded. A few seconds later shut the file he was skimming over and tossed it onto the ever-increasing pile by his side. He glanced up and after noticing Kuroo he visibly perked up. “I’m told you’re good with computers.”

“I am?” replied Kuroo confused by the sudden question.

“I need you to make all our jobs easier and search for this Suzuhara person on our data base. I can’t work this thing to save my life.”

Kuroo shot Koutaou an amused glance as if to say, ‘is he always like this?’ the silver haired man simply shrugged, content with being a bystander in this situation. “Yeah of course, point me to a computer.”

Akaashi was always ten steps ahead he already had the computer on and the data base booted. He pushed his office chair out for Kuroo and gestured for him to sit, ever the picture of grace even in his frustrated state.

Kuroo sat down and his nimble finger began to work away. Koutarou opened a granola and ate it while watching him search. He was already too familiar with how hopeless Akaashi was with technology, the one fallacy he’d witnessed from the otherwise over competent man. Using the data base was a simple task even Koutarou could use it. He wasn’t even half done with his granola bar when Kuroo said, “Found him.”

They all crowded in front of the computer while Kuroo recited the information that he found. “It says here that he joined the cold case unit five years ago and transferred to cyber forensics last year.”

“He doesn’t fit our timeline,” Akaashi said.

“Yeah he joined too recently is there anyone else with that name?” Koutarou

Kuroo scrolled through the list on his screen. “No, there isn’t”

“We’re at a dead end again,” Koutarou sighed.

“Do we even know that Yamaguchi remembered the right person?” Akaashi questioned

“We don’t,” Kuroo said.

“No wonder this case didn’t get solved the first time, literally nothing adds up,” Koutarou whined.

“Ain’t that the truth. Are all cases here this infuriating?” Kuroo directed this question at Akaashi.

He shrugged, “Some are but I don’t think I’ve worked on a case this fragmented before.”

The three men let out a collective sigh when they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Standing in the door way was a short blonde-haired woman, she wringed her hands nervously as she spoke. “um…Kuroo-san our supervisor would like to see you. He needs to confirm your transfer documents.”

Koutarou recognised the woman, her name was Yachi Hitoka and she was the part time receptionist. He spoke to her often in the mornings. As Kuroo was getting up to follow her a passing conversation he had with Yachi surfaced in his mind.

_“Do you work here part time?”_

_“Yeah, I can’t really decide on a career path, so I do all sorts of things. I’m a freelance graphic designer, I coach a kid’s volleyball team on the weekends, I also occasionally work as a sketch artist. It’s a creepy job though, not a big fan.”_

“Wait, Yachi-san,” Koutatou said

The woman in question turned around and squeaked out a, “Yes?”

“You still work as a sketch artist, right?”

Yachi looked nervous at the mention of her side job but still nodded.

“Could you help us with our case?”

Yachi appeared as though she was going to pass out.

“Don’t worry it’s nothing gruesome we just need to identify a person.”

Yachi was still pale but she seemed marginally calmer. “Sure, when do you need me?”

Catching onto what Koutarou intended Akaashi said, “I’ll ask Yamaguchi-san to come in tomorrow.”

“You heard him, are you free then?”

Yachi fumbled with her purse until she pulled out a bright pink planner covered in stickers. She flicked open to a bookmarked page and after scanning it she looked up at the men before her. “I’m free tomorrow so call me whenever.”

With that decided Koutarou let both her and Kuroo go attend to their supervisor whilst Akaashi called Yamaguchi to ensure he was available.

Normally Koutarou would categorise this as a fallacy in a witness testimony however something in his gut was telling him this situation was different. He hoped that he was wrong.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! so what did you think? I'm a huge cold case fan so how could I resist. The interactions between Akaashi and Bokuto are really fun to write and so are the flashbacks then I write the other bits and I get really sad. But its so interesting to me at the same time so I just push through it.  
> Anyway enough about that. Who do you think did it?


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